


Penny Dreadful

by duh_i_read (duh_i_write)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: 100-1000 Words, F/M, Fluff, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duh_i_write/pseuds/duh_i_read
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were penny dreadful monsters, just not all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penny Dreadful

Those first twenty years weren't always like the chronicles of penny dreadful monsters. A lot of killing was had, yes. So much bloodshed and punishment and lust and hunger. They were the Whirlwind, and nobody could touch them.

Yet: there were quiet moments. Ofttimes in the late afternoon before dusk, when Angelus was content to simply sit in the parlor of the nest and draw with thin charcoals from tin boxes; mostly sweeping sketchings of Darla, sprawled on the fainting couch reading some penny dreadful that paled to their own exploits, with the morning's newspaper discarded beside her. Dru would be laying belly down on the rug, quietly playing with her paper dolls, her murmurs no louder than the scratchings of his pen. Darla's fingers would stroke Dru's hair almost without thought and together, their beauty seemed beyond capture by pencil or ink. It was in these quiet times, as he wrote verses about his demonic family, that an eternity with these messy quibbling passionate strange creatures seemed sublime.

Inevitably, the moment would stretch thin and break. Darla would finish her chapter and declare it was time to eat. Angelus would cuff him about for not paying attention to the feel of the setting sun while Drusilla goaded her Daddy on. None of it mattered, because after fetching his elder's coats, he would slip the red velvet coat over his beloved's shoulders and drop kisses over her temple. Demons fully roused, Darla would pause at the threshold for a moment, arm in arm with Angelus, weighting choices know only to her and darling boy, before leading them out into the streets to show the night who owned whom.

So much bloodshed and punishment and hunger and lust. And, dare he say, love.


End file.
